The Sierra is Cold

Yes, it is true. There exists in Ecuador not only the scalding heat of the coast where I currently dwell, but a freezing climate high in the wind-swept mountains of the sierra. Such a wide variety of pain, in a country the size of Colorado! An earlier version of myself would have jumped at the chance to get out of the heat. Indeed, I did laugh when my host family told me Zula would be cold, even for a gringo. Cold? Hah! I come from Chicago, we own cold. As its masters, we let it roam free for half the year and sometimes more. And my host family wanted me to take a coat. A coat! Who the heck brings a coat to Ecuador?

As it turns out, I made a grave miscalculation. The extreme altitude, searing wind, and arctic temperature combined to form a type of Axis of Evil whose united purpose was to make me feel like crap. They succeeded, in part. I spent my nights unable to sleep due to the change in pressure. My mornings were spent wishing my stomach pains would leave so I could actually eat something. The evenings were spent looking for additional clothes to put on. By stealing clothes from random people I was able to cobble together an outfit that made me look like a sad Christmas tree---a green hat, red scarf, and over sized jacket that wasn't nearly thick enough.

The cold found the prospect of tormenting an unprepared gringo much more appealing than its failed attempts to pierce the stone skin of the local natives. That is why it followed me. I know this is not usually possible but this chill wind born in the harsh mountains of the sierra seemed to have developed an evil intelligence. It jumped on my head and made me wish I was born without ears. It tried to gnaw off my face by freezing portions so they were digestible. It followed me into the bathroom when I was most vulnerable. Showers were impossible. I'm surprised the water could be at that temperature and still hold its liquid form! Sometimes I would feel the wind whipping at my eyes and making them water, only to realize they were tears. Perhaps I was mourning the slow death of my fingers? Using my keen survival skills I was able to steal mittens. This served the dual purpose of completing the outfit of the Dorkiest Gringo in Ecuador and saving my fingers, for which you should be grateful as I'm using them to write this blog for you.

Comments Back Up

Finally, I have been able to make comments available after all my posts. It is a known issue with Blogger and they say they are working on it (I say they are lying). My way around it is fairly easy though- I just re-post and re-post until everything is as it should be.

I Can't Take Heat, Getting Out Of Kitchen

My roommate Paolo and his enamorada Joana took me to a club in the rich north side of Guayaquil a while ago. It was really a lot of fun. I'm not a dancer by any means but I do like to go out clubbing. Sadly, I'm pretty sure others find my dancing a painful experience. The club we went to is called Diesel. If you ever find yourself in Ecuador and need a good club to hit up, try it. Music is good, the bar is free (after you pay to get in of course), and the various rooms with either dance floors or couches is a nice touch. The main floor was packed full and bodies were everywhere with little space to move or actually dance. Now, this normally would not deter me but this night it didn't even cross my mind- beautiful Latinas with long, black hair and were everywhere!

I made a miscalculation. Believing that my exotic gringo appeal would conquer all, I began to dance like an ADHD child locked out of the bathroom. The club's sweltering atmosphere and my own unfortunate propensity to perspire combined to extract every drop of moisture in my body and convert it into sweat. I often soak through my shirt here in Ecuador but this time I somehow managed to sweat through my pants and socks as well. It was not pretty. Girls started refusing to dance with me and would even advert their eyes in horror. They must have thought that dancing with me could only end in their testifying to American embassy officials in the inquiry over my death. I really can't blame them. While my luck with the girls was nowhere to be found at that club, the next club I would go to was something completely different...

Happy Mother's Day

Everybody keeps asking me if I feel sad to be in South America during Mother's Day, with a look of pity or concern on their faces like I'm going to break down and cry at any moment. I can survive without my mother or family. This isn't to say that I'm a cruel and heartless person, I do miss her of course. The two years I spent in Venezuela as a missionary prepared me for this. It is official Church policy that missionaries are to never see their families for the duration of the mission and are to call on only two occasions- Mother's Day and Christmas. This may seem harsh but it is actually designed to keep one's mind focused on the task at hand and not call crying home to mommy every few days. I will call my mother today, and now that I'm not a missionary I won't have a time limit. She has been a wonderful mother, raising six children (all boys) through some very tough times. I only wish I could do more for her besides a phone call.

As I hate blogs with a large amount of emo content let's move on. My computer situation has been partially resolved, at least the most important part. Due to the miracle that is reinstalling the operating system my laptop is back up and running and faster than before. My HP laptop, I love her so much. Yes, she is a girl. She told me so. What?...

Anyways, while that situation is resolved my wireless situation has gone from bad to worse. The wireless router is now completely useless. Not only can I not connect to the wireless from .5 feet away, it is no longer possible to connect a computer directly to it and use the modem. It's a worthless piece of crap now. I will try and return it tomorrow, but knowing Ecuador, this will be no easy task.

Pray For Me

Computers are not my friend at the moment, I am not even sure I can publish this entry but I am typing it anyways, it has been too long since the last time I posted. My first troubles with computers and their newfangled devices started with the wireless router I just bought for 100 dollars. Electronics are expensive in Ecuador because they do not make any, it is all imported. This router is supposed to have an indoor signal strength that reaches up to 100 meters. All I need is 20 because I would like to use my laptop in my room where it is nice and quiet. It did not seem like too much to ask for but the router thinks I am a selfish jerk. We are currently locked in an epic battle that has lasted for days. The farthest I can get a good signal with this 100 dollar box of plastic frustration is about ten feet. Seriously. Make that five feet if a wall is in the way.

If this were all, I would consider myself fortunate and electronics my good friends. However, something very, very bad has happened to my laptop. This is unfortunate because my laptop is my life. Countless hours have been spent downloading movies, anime, and other random files to this beautiful machine. I cannot survive the harsh conditions here in Ecuador without it!

While I consider myself a fairly computer-savy person this is beyond my experience. I have spent hours trying to fix it and I seem to be making the problem actually worse. This started out as a corrupt profile message and the / in my c drive files (i.e. C:/Program Files/Crap) being replaced with some weird antena symbol that I have never seen before. Now I am unable to log onto my computer at all. This is due to the very applications that are supposed to help fix my computer, made by my new enemy Microsoft. Screw you, System Restore.

No Gringos in Ecuador

The semester has started and I'm now in the process of adjusting to the life of an Ecuadorian student. I had high hopes that I would be able to meet new and interesting people in my classes, which are all in English. I envisioned myself bravely leading a small band of gringos to the best tourist sites in town, translating for them with ease and perhaps impressing an American girl or two. Usually I go for Latinas but a little variety never hurts, right?

Reality turned out to be far different. There are no gringos in my classes. My course, which is taught completely in English is for some strange and baffling reason filled with Ecuadorians who are really just learning the language themselves. No, I take that back. There are two half-Ecuadorian half-American combos in my classes, and one Italian. That's it. So why are all these kids taking courses taught in a language they barely understand? It looks good on the resume, that is all. They are more likely to be hired by a company if their degree is written as "International Business" instead of its Spanish version "Negocios Internationales".


So my first day in class saw my dreams of being the Alpha Gringo destroyed. There was no pack of Spanish-deficient, scared, first-time-south-of-the-border gringos to lead. Only a class full of Ecuadorians who either ignored me or considered me to be a curiosity, nothing more. I really would have liked to have a few gringos in my classes. We would have shared a bond, you know? Coming from the same place, in a different land, it's very easy to make friends when you have that in common.

Not that I can't make friends with my Ecuadorian classmates. I can be very sociable when I want to be. However, in this kind of situation I can sense a certain air of unease about the students I talk to. If I speak to them in English they get self-conscience about their own English skills. If I reassure them that I speak Spanish they in turn feel awkward speaking Spanish to a bona-fide gringo in a class that is supposed to be all in English. The fact that I am something new, that they have no experience with, is also a factor. These issues are all natural and I myself have felt their gringoish counterparts fill me with unease from time to time, so I understand. It will just take a while to break through that initial barrier and get to know them as well as I would like.

Snail Lotion

The only interesting thing that happened today was a commercial I saw on TV while taking a bus across town. It started out as your typical, run-of-the-mill lotion ad featuring beautiful women rubbing lotion into their skin, acting like it was the most excitement they have had all year. The lotion was called Elion or something, I wasn't really paying attention. But I sat bolt upright when a giant snail crawled onto the woman´s hand and then looked at the camera. That´s right. This cream is made with snails. The reason the ad gave was ¨snails make their own shells¨ and thus have regenerative capabilities. Apparently snail slime can also make you regain your youth, lose fat, and is the key to rejuvenating your skin. Snails and women talked and slithered their way through the rest of the ad, with a giant brown snail crawling across the screen to finish it off.

Now, I don´t use lotion. But if I did, I certainly would not slop snail slime all over my skin just because some ad´s perverse logic said it´s good for me. Instead of smooth, supple skin I´m afraid I would end up with crunchy snail-shell skin.